When the Smoke Clears
by canarian
Summary: Blaine comforts Kurt after he receives his rejection letter from NYADA.


Blaine holds Kurt until his sobbing subsides enough that he isn't making full-on choking sounds anymore. He can feel the dampness of Kurt's tears on his shirt, but he never lets go. He just keeps whispering soothing words in his boyfriend's ear and stroking his hair.

"After all that," Kurt says, the sound muffled by Blaine's thick sweater. "And I didn't even get in."

"Shhh," Blaine soothes. "It's not over. We'll think of something."

"I know," Kurt replies. "I just really wanted to go to NYADA. It's like my dreams are all gone now."

Blained remains quiet for a few moments before pulling back a little bit and placing a hand under Kurt's chin. He pulls Kurt's head up so he can look into his blue-green eyes, rimmed with red and puffy from crying, but still gorgeous.

"When you were a kid…what did you want to be when you grew up?" he asks.

"What?" Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Just humor me, Kurt. What did you want to be when you grew up?" Blaine insists.

Kurt bites his lip and looks into his boyfriend's warm, amber eyes. He furrows his brow, searching his memory for what his five-year-old self could have possibly had in mind as a dream job.

"Well, I guess when I was _really_ little, like five, I wanted to be a firefighter," Kurt says. "I remember it seeming really glamorous at the time. That was before I got into fashion, of course."

"Of course," Blaine says.

"I mean, who wants to wear 80 pounds of gear every time they go to work? And in synthetic fabrics no less."

"The horror!" Blaine teases. Kurt swats his arm playfully and Blaine smiles.

"And why did you change your mind?" he asks sincerely. "Besides the lack of fashion in fire-proof gear."

"Um…well," Kurt says hesitantly. "I guess I realized it wasn't something that suited my personality. It's all right for a dream when you're five, but once you learn more about yourself, you know there are things that are inherently you. Things that make you want to get out of bed every day, you know?"

"Like music," Blaine says knowingly. "And performing."

"Exactly."

"And fashion," Blaine says quietly.

"Fashion?"

"Kurt, you're really talented, you know. But it's not just singing. You've got a real eye for fashion. I don't know anyone else who can put together an ensemble like you."

"Why thank you," he says, preening a bit. Kurt knows his fashion choices are bold, but it's always nice to have them appreciated.

"I'm serious," Blaine says. "I've never seen anyone do what you can do with safety pins, a little extra fabric, and a designer pair of jeans from a thrift store."

"That's because people are so closed-minded, Blaine. Fashion has no gender; yet all these designers insist on separating their lines into men's and women's clothing. It's ridiculous the way no one has managed to create a truly androgynous collection yet. It's the 21st century for the love of Alexander McQueen!"

Blaine cups Kurt's face in his hands and kisses him firmly on the mouth.

"See?" he says, pulling back with a broad grin on his face. "You're passionate about more than just music."

"Well, of course I am, silly. Fashion is my life."

Blaine just smiles.

"Oh," Kurt says, eyes going wide with realization. "OH!"

"Your dreams aren't gone," Blaine says. "They're just changing to better fit your personality."

Blaine rubs his thumb across Kurt's cheek as they just smile at each other for a moment. Kurt loves it when they do this — just stop and take it all in. Their eyes speak volumes without either of them saying a word.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Kurt asks, leaning in to kiss Blaine, soft and sweet.

"I've been trying to figure out how I managed to snag someone as amazing as you," Blaine whispers against Kurt's lips.

"I _am_ quite a catch," Kurt says, flipping the front of his hair between a pinched thumb and index finger. Blaine laughs softly.

"You are indeed."

They smile at each other again, holding the gaze for a few seconds.

"I would have made an awesome firefighter," Kurt says finally looking away.

"You'd have made that gear look hot," Blaine says, pressing a kiss to Kurt's neck.

"Blaine Anderson," Kurt accuses, "is there something you need to tell me?"

Blaine licks and nips at a spot behind Kurt's ear and murmurs against his skin. "No."

Kurt pulls back, forcing him to pull off his neck and make eye contact.

"What?" Blaine asks, eyes wide with forced innocence. "You've never fantasized about getting rescued by a hot fireman?"

Kurt _says_ no, but his eyes trail seductively over Blaine's face. Blaine's expression instantly changes to match Kurt's, and the spark of heat they can always manage to summon up at a moment's notice crackles warm and bright between them.

"I think I have some red suspenders and a fitted white t-shirt," Kurt says softly. "We could probably figure something out."

Blaine grins from ear to ear, his honey eyes dancing with mischief as he starts to sing.

"Come on baby light my fire…"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Try to set the night on fire," Blaine croons.

Kurt shoves his boyfriend back into the mattress and muffles Blaine's singing with his mouth, peppering kisses along his lips, cheeks, and nose. Blaine stubbornly keeps singing the chorus between pecks until he feels Kurt's tongue graze his bottom lip.

Suddenly the broken melody of the Doors song gives way to the quiet symphony of their tongues exploring each others' mouths for what seems like the millionth time, but yet somehow never gets old.

"I think my dream has already come true," Kurt says, breathing heavily as he breaks the kiss.

"What dream is that?" Blaine asks, his voice deep and intimate. His eyes are still closed and his lips are still brushing against Kurt's.

"I have you," Kurt says simply. "That's all I need."


End file.
